


The Object of My Inquiry

by ElloMenoP



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Choking, M/M, Other, Rough Sex, cigarette burns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 21:34:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3265112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElloMenoP/pseuds/ElloMenoP
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr request. The Spy is obsessed with finding out more about the enemy Pyro and will do anything to get answers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Object of My Inquiry

All Spy had to do was follow the trail of burning corpses, like a grotesque version of Hansel and Gretel, that was certainly something his collaborator would be interested in. Gradually, the corpses went from charred and indistinguishable to freshly cooked, and Spy knew he was getting closer. He liked to follow the clues that his partner left behind, trying to determine if they were flirtatious or if he was being lured into a perilous trap.

 

Even though his partner liked the play as well, they grew tired of waiting much quicker than the Spy did, and soon enough there would be blatant signs pointing to their location. He saw his team’s Scout sprinting away from a rocky wall ablaze and screaming for their Medic, Spy allowed him to pass by without a snide comment. His cohort was obviously impatient. 

 

He turned the corner and let a lazy smile crack his face. “ _Bonjour,_ _mon ami._ ”

 

The Pyro turned to face him, they appeared to have been blasting their flamethrower and Spy questioned whether it was out of boredom or the belief that they could actually set the air on fire. The Pyro stood still, waiting for Spy to make the first move as they always did during their encounters, and as Spy got within reach they dropped their weapon to the ground. 

 

“How about we do things differently this time? Hmm, a little change of pace?” Spy’s hands sweetly went to the seam between the Pyro’s mask and suit, this was no change of pace from their regular encounters. Spy’s fascination with who or what Pyro was is what fueled their meetings and kept Spy returning despite the danger. 

 

The Pyro responded as they always did, by pushing Spy’s hands away and making a muffled noise of dissent. 

 

“Don’t you get frustrated in that suit, you must wish to feel the touch of my skin,” Spy placed his hands on Pyro’s shoulders and rubbed them gently, “the feel of my fingers,” he slowly brought his hands down to the seam once again, “my lips.”

 

He almost thought this time his charms would work and he’d finally unveil the the RED Pyro for what they were, but he was meanly shoved away. Spy made an irritated sigh. “What will it take? What is it that you want?” 

 

The Pyro gave no response, verbal or physical. 

 

Spy replaced his hands around the Pyro’s neck, “Come now, I’ll show you yours,” he took the Pyro’s gloved hands and placed them at the hem of his balaclava, “and you can show me mine.”

 

There was the tiniest show of interest on the enemy’s part, the tip of Pyro’s thickly covered forefinger poked beneath the fabric, but just as quickly as it appeared it retracted. Spy read the intention clearly, and he was dismayed at the Pyro’s choice, but still, no matter how small the interest, it would be enough for Spy to exploit. The Pyro turned away from the Spy all together and bent down to their flamethrower.

 

“Oh fine, we will do this as usual,” he surrendered, loosening the knot of his tie. The Pyro spun back around showing a quickness that Spy never saw on the field, their gloved hands stopped Spy from taking his tie off and pushed the windsor knot back into place. But Pyro was going the extra mile, they pushed the knot tight against Spy’s throat, too tight, and slipped the ring of cloth beyond his shirt collar to just beneath his chin, effectively making a collar and leash. 

 

They tugged on the end of it to pull Spy forward, and he stumbled between the short distance. Pyro pulled again, more forcefully, causing Spy’s stumble to turn into a fall and bring him to his knees, exactly where Pyro liked the man. They held tight on the makeshift leash, lightly choking Spy as they riffled through the Frenchman’s suit jacket until they found a cigarette case. 

 

In one move, Pyro dropped the end of the tie and used one boot kick to Spy’s chest to lie him flat in the dirt. They popped open the case with a little ‘click’ and hungrily looked over the neat lines of cigarettes, then they looked around for fire source, immediately landing on their flamethrower first. A silver lighter came into their view before they could take a single step toward the weapon. 

 

“I think this will suit our purposes far better,” Spy offered, and laid back down once Pyro accepted. “Shall I begin undressing?”

 

Pyro took a single cigarette out as they straddled Spy, they absently nodded but a gave a short tug on the tie.

 

“Yes, I will leave that on,” Spy agreed. The Frenchman quickly unbuttoned his shirt, Pyro had already lit one cigarette and a pillar of ash was forming quicker than Spy could undress. Once an area of skin was exposed, Pyro flicked the excess ash off the cigarette and brought its burning tip to Spy’s chest. The assassin hissed and tensed against the pain, his arms thrashed still in his sleeves and he barely had time to free them before Pyro pressed another burning cigarette to his skin.

 

Pyro played at artist, creating a scene only they could see using cigarette after cigarette. They left angry red marks all over Spy’s chest, some close to his nipples, a number between his ribs, and many leading up to his neck. They alternated between burning Spy and pressing a thumb into the newly made blisters trying to make the man yell with pain, but only getting gritted teeth and small grunts. They wrapped two hands around the man’s throat and squeezed, if Spy didn’t want to make sounds then Pyro was going to take away his option to make any noise whatsoever.

 

Pyro’s ministrations weren’t the best Spy had had, not in comparison to some fine lovers from over the years. Their actions were wholly selfish and if they caused Spy pleasure it was a side effect of their own desires to hear moans or crying. Whatever Pyro was, they liked inflicting pain. It was enough though, enough to get Spy off, and more importantly enough to keep Pyro interested and docile. So Spy let them play the dominate role, let them put searing burn marks all over his body knowing each touch brought him closer to who Pyro was beneath the mask.

 

The choking wasn’t half bad, the hands were tight, but loose enough that Spy could breath. He actually liked the idea of being lead around on a leash more than the strangling, but Pyro seemed like it when his eyes watered and his face went from pale, to red, to blue. He theorized that the color changes were similar to the flames they liked so much. Pyro only loosened his hold once they saw a red splotches forming beneath the blue mask and tears in Spy’s eyes.

 

Spy coughed and gasped for air, he would have loosened the tie and took it off all together if Pyro hadn’t been grinding into his pelvis with one hand wrapped in the cloth. He found his encounters with the mysterious mercenary were fragile, the slightest wrong move could send them skittering away and Spy wouldn’t see them for months. That was the last thing he wanted, especially now that he was getting so close to discovering something substantial.

 

His fascination with the Pyro had started off slow, a general desire to know and understand what  the mercenary was. The more he uncovered the more he needed to know. He needed to figure out every puzzle surrounding the Pyro, what they looked like, what they sounded like, why all the secrecy. His fascination had turned into obsession and he was willing to do anything to get answers.

 

Spy’s hands flew to his belt buckle. “Shall we move on, _luciole_?”

 

The Pyro showed their agreement by helping the Spy’s pants make their way to the man’s ankles, shortly followed by his briefs. Spy’s cock wasn’t hard yet, and that was okay because Pyro still had a line of cigarettes left to use. With Spy naked, Pyro had more room to play, their first cigarette burn was placed high on Spy’s left hip. The Frenchman still did not cry out in pain, instead he moaned, “Yess.”

 

The next burning tip was pressed into an inner thigh, close to his balls, that made him jump and his legs strain to separate in an effort to run from the pain. The third marked Spy’s other thigh, mirroring the previous spot, so when Pyro spread his thighs they’d look like a butterfly’s open wingspan. By then Pyro had gotten a new goal in their head, to decorate Spy’s thighs until they were aesthetically pleasing, they became so focused on that task that they didn’t realize they accomplished their earlier desire.

 

Spy was yelping with pain, and twisting beneath the Pyro trying to squirm away from the searing burns, even though his words were encouraging. “Oh yes, _mon_ _luciole_ , more, mark me.” 

 

Pyro obliged without word or nod, they were planning on adding more whether Spy liked it or not. They experimented with the redness by holding the burning cigarettes to the skin for longer periods, with Spy’s growing erection and moans as one sign of its success. The real indicator was how deep the color got and how raw it looked, once they found the perfect result they followed those methods until the cigarettes ran out. Spy’s thighs were spotted with red angry blisters, but his cock was hard and his hands were pawing at the Pyro. 

 

“My coat pocket,” he moaned and reached out a hand for his suit jacket. It was difficult to search the garment while Pyro brushed along his wounds, he had to pause and clutch his jacket to ride out the pain. When he got the bottle of lubricant out Pyro snatched it out of his hands and poured a heaping amount of the liquid between his thighs, not the most precise method, but better than having Pyro’s gloved fingers probing his hole unprepared.

 

The liquid slowly dripped from the base of Spy’s cock, over this balls, and down to his hole, part of him wish the Pyro was a little more broad in his application, and that some of it landed on his hurting thighs. They stung far worse than a slap or pinch, the pleasure they gave was slowly fading and a deep soreness was taking over. As soon as Pyro paid attention to his needs the pain would be forgotten, but that wasn’t guarantee. 

 

His first encounters with the masked mercenary weren’t as thought out as their latest affairs. Those were rough over the clothes fucks, with Spy pressed against rock faces or splintering walls while the Pyro ground their pelvis against his rear until some sort of relief was felt by them. In those days Spy was lucky if Pyro reached into his pants to hurriedly jerk him off before shoving him away and burning him to death. Now though, Spy had come to expect a considerable amount of rough foreplay and delicate dancing to keep the Pyro from calling it all off.

 

As careful as he has been, he was still not granted access to Pyro’s body beyond grinding against their covered groin. The asbestos suit was too thick to even determine what sort of genitals, if any, the Pyro had. Even if Spy was physically satisfied by their interactions he was still left utterly frustrated by his curiosity.

 

Spy made a sharp moan and pumped his hips up.

 

Pyro’s gloved fingers breeched Spy’s hole while their other hand closed around his throat, squeezing with one set of fingers and thrusting with the other. Spy’s pleasure was caught in choking rasps. They tried to keep both hands at the same pace, forcefully strangling Spy while their fingers poked at the man’s prostate over and over. Then, as they lightened their hold around the Frenchman’s neck, they’d slow their thrusting fingers to teasing touches. Slowly circling two fingers around the loosened hole while Spy sucked in air. They only knew that their actions were right by Spy’s encouragement, often they confused Spy’s gasps for pleasure with groans of unwanted pain.

 

“Mm, _luciole_ , you are talented.” Spy cringed at the sound of his own voice, it was hoarse and pathetic, the kind of voice Spy would leave others with. Still, Spy would put on a parade of different accents and sounds just to get a peak underneath Pyro’s gas mask. Gently he ran his fingers over the exhalation valve, assuming that’s where the Pyro’s mouth was. “Please, give me more, let me feel your lips.” 

 

So fragile were their encounters that the mood exploded into outrage, sweet words that would lure another closer, pushed the Pyro away. The fingers thrusting in Spy’s hole stopped their work and joined their counterparts around his neck, their intentions more deadly than ringing out moans. They closed tight around Spy’s trachea, thumbs and forefingers pressed harshly beneath his jawbones, squeezing beyond Spy’s comfort. He kicked and twisted under Pyro, his own hands coming forward to pry the maniac off of him. At this rate he’d respawn and lose the Pyro for weeks before he got them close again.

 

In a gambit, and against his own survival instincts, Spy’s hands flew to the Pyro’s groin and rubbed forcefully through the thick layers. The fingers eased and loosened as Pyro’s pelvis ground back against his hands, and slowly did Pyro’s hands leave Spy’s neck all together, landing on his shoulders instead. They grabbed tight and pulled Spy’s forward, off the ground to slam him down a few times, rough enough to tell him not to touch the subject again.

 

“Aaghh,” Spy allowed a groan of pain for extra measure.

 

The assassin silently thanked the Administrator for assigning them to a desert base, the ground may have been hard and left a dull ache on the back of his skull but not as painful as concrete. He gave a single nod to the Pyro to indicate that he’d leave his inquiring behind, they accepted by wrapping the length of his tie around their knuckles and pulling him up off the ground. Stiffly, Spy followed the pull of the tie, clumsily getting to his feet only to be shoved back down, this time on his stomach.

 

The Pyro took a seat on the small of his back and rubbed their groin against him. They were facing Spy’s backside and they could see glistening wet lube splattered between the cheeks with dirt stuck them, but that didn’t take away from how inviting it looked. They dipped their fingers back into Spy’s hole and poked around until they felt the man shudder. 

 

Pyro reached behind and grabbed the tie, holding tight to it and enjoying the sound of Spy’s labored panting, though unsure if it was from the fingering or the pull of the cloth. The position Spy was in was not one he particularly liked, even with Pyro’s fingers brushing against his prostate and sending jolts of pleasure through him, his cock was exposed and being ground into the dirt with every movement Pyro made, it felt almost as raw as burns dotting his chest and thighs.

 

“Hhss,” Spy sucked in air and tensed, gradually releasing the breath in a painful sigh as his cock head rubbed against the dirt. 

 

Though, if Pyro’s erratic fingers and their fastened pace were any indicator, he wouldn’t be that position for long. He could feel Pyro’s hips thrusting faster and faster against his body, the hand that held onto the makeshift leash was pulling tighter while their other hand lost focus on Spy’s pleasure. The mysterious fire lover rarely spoke or even made noises during their times together, but if they did, it was always just before they came.

 

“Mmmmph.”

 

Spy hazarded a look behind him, straining against the choking tie to see the Pyro’s head tossed back. Their hand had slipped from between Spy’s cheeks to grip one handful of flesh while they rutted against his back. 

 

“Mmmaah.” 

 

Quick short thrusts racked into Spy. 

 

“Mmhhmm.” 

 

They became shorter and faster.

 

“Mmh mmh mmh.”

 

Faster and even more frantic, the thrusts of someone close to the end.

 

“Mmmmmahhhh!”

 

Finally there was a single long thrust, and Pyro kept their groin pressed against Spy while they rode out the waves of satisfaction, their hand griping Spy’s asscheek hard. After the initial peak of orgasm Pyro made smaller thrusts, working out every last drop of pleasure. When they were done they sat there on top of Spy, wheezing through their gas mask and slowly gaining their energy back.

 

 Spy coughed and tugged at the ring of cloth around his neck, with his voice still gruff he asked, “Was that to your liking?”

 

“Hmmph,” Pyro responded, Spy had had enough experience with them to know that was a positive response.

 

Then the Pyro lifted themselves from Spy and quickly grabbed hold of the Frenchman, rolled him over and slammed him back down against the ground. Spy allowed it with a grunt, but he grimaced at the amount of dirt that stuck to the lube around his privates. The Pyro didn’t seem to care. They wrapped a gloved hand around the length and began jerking Spy off. 

 

“How kind-” Spy’s comment was cut short by Pyro’s free hand closing around his throat. Despite the rush of arousal, Spy’s inquisitive mind wondered if Pyro were ambidextrous, the firebug often used both hands on him in tandem. He moaned as Pyro’s thumb swiped over his head and their other hand squeezed his throat, there was nothing so good as a partner that knew how to use both hands at the same time.

 

Pyro went back to experimenting on the Spy, alternating between squeezing Spy’s cock and his neck. They’d jerk Spy off then suddenly stop to squeeze the length tightly, while loosening their hold on the man’s neck so he could release a suppressed cry in protest to the tight fist around his cock. Then, as they cut off Spy’s airway, they’d slow the handjob, paying attention to his head instead of giving Spy the orgasm he wanted. 

 

Occasionally they’d squeeze both hands at the same time and Spy would struggle, for more or less they weren’t sure. Pyro’s playing had to come to and end though. Spy’s hands had been gripping them, trying to dig into the flesh through the thick layer of rubber to bring them closer together, and his grunts were getting louder, too loud for the battlefield. Their slippery gloved hand flew up and down Spy’s cock, they watched carefully for signs of his coming orgasm. 

 

Spy bit his lip hard and his hips snapped up seeking more, a harder, faster touch. Pyro saw the telltale sign and upped their pace, quick, strong pulls to Spy’s cock. Their other hand clasped around his neck and squeezed hard, hard enough to keep the man from breathing. Within seconds he was jerking under Pyro’s hands, his hips shaking and hands clutching at him while his cock spurt jets of come. The moan that would have been heard was caught in his burning lungs desperate to get out as much as air was desperate to get in.

 

The intensity of Spy’s orgasm was deepened by the choking, he was never an avid fan of erotic asphyxiation but it did make for some pleasing outcomes. With his airways cut off Spy felt the usual shuddering orgasm roll through him, from the tingling in his balls to the rippling in his cock head, but the sensation was given an added boost, leaving Spy with a floating feeling before he finally gulped for air again. 

 

The majority of Spy’s load was caught in Pyro’s hand, they shook off most of it and wiped their hand on the ground. Spy watched as he panted and rubbed sweat from his forehead, slowly he reached for his pants that were still around his ankles and pulled out a handkerchief. With a curled lip he wiped away flecks of cum and smears of lube, hissing as he began to feel how inflamed the cigarette burns were. Slowly he put himself together and ignored the aching from his hips to his knees, the tender wounds on his chest, and the bruises around his throat. He hoped his encounter was going to be more profitable than a single orgasm.

 

When he had his pants back on, and his shirt buttoned with his tie in place he looked to the Pyro. “As much as I enjoy these meetings I have to say they aren’t as worthwhile as you may think.” 

 

He wished the Pyro was more expressive, even if he couldn’t see Pyro’s face he’d at least be able to discern something if the masked mercenary so much as titled their head or shrugged. 

 

Spy continued, cringing at his own rasping voice, “I can have sex with anyone, and as dirty or rough as I like.”

 

Pyro stared blankly, Spy couldn’t even be sure if he was being listened to.

 

“If you want this to continue you’re going to have to give me something.” Spy frowned and turned away to gather his suit jacket and cigarette case, and was surprised to hear a sound from the Pyro.

 

“Mmph.” 

 

He was more surprised when a hand gently rested on his forearm to keep him from walking away. Tentatively, Pyro’s left hand went to the hem of the opposite glove and pulled it up. They rolled the cuff forward, revealing cleaner portions of the suit sleeve, but Spy knew there was more coming and his eyes glittered with anticipation. Finally they reached a point where there was neither suit nor glove, a completely bare expanse of the Pyro. As quickly as he saw it, Pyro hid it away again.

 

“Mmpph?”

 

Spy mentally cataloged the sight and formed a dozen possible explanations before he answered, “Yes, _mon luciole_ this has sated my appetite.” He opened his cigarette case before remembering they had all been used on him, and he snapped it shut with a frown. He added, “For now.”

 

That earned Spy an up close and personal view of Pyro’s flamethrower.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like more answers about who or what the Pyro is check out [ello-meno-p](http://ello-meno-p.tumblr.com/)


End file.
